Despite its Kentish location, The Timber Batts is engagingly French, complete
with moules farcies and French bar staff.

Usually when you leave a pub, the landlord doesn't kiss you on both cheeks and say: "Merci beaucoup. A la prochaine." A non-committal "Bye now" is about as good as it gets.

But not at the Timber Batts. Despite being tucked away in the sleepiest of Kent countryside, it has completely French bar staff, sports a tricolore alongside a Union Jack, and runs a restaurant which positively rejoices in the name of Froggies.

In fact, there's barely a flat surface which isn't occupied either by a pottery frog, a metal frog playing a musical instrument, or some other form of decorative ''amphibiabilia''.

Of course, the choice of restaurant name is a tactical coup worthy of Napoleon. By acknowledging traditional Anglo-Saxon ambivalence towards the French, le patron wins over the locals without a shot being fired.

Far from feeling invaded by a foreign power, customers queue up to have a go at parlez-ing le lingo, ordering moules farçies or à la marinière off a 100 per cent French menu; either table d'hôte (two courses, £16) or à la carte (starters £7-ish, mains £15-plus). Even the bar food is more French than English (ham baguettes, croque-monsieur, Roquefort cheese omelette). It's a surprise the prices aren't in euros.

By contrast, les environs are as British as can be: a low-beamed yet airy dining room, with solid stone floors and lots of space between tables – this thanks to the removal of a few dividing walls at some point between now and the 15th century.

Speaking of space, there is a glorious hilltop view over rolling farmland, from the pub's grassy sitting-out area ("garden" is too formal a word for this rather insouciantly kept spot). Indoors, non-eating customers are confined to a somewhat cramped little corral to the right of the bar.

Out here, though, they can bring their pints of old English ale (Woodfordes Wherry, Adnams Southwold, Fullers London Pride) and admire the stubbled fields of Albion from a little patch of ground that is forever France.